


Sleepyhead

by JacarandaBanyan



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Adolin and Shallan: dream team, Crack, F/M, Gen, Hijinks, Humor, Kaladin won't sleep, almost crackish, bridge four just wants Kaladin to sleep already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacarandaBanyan/pseuds/JacarandaBanyan
Summary: "Reporting for duty, sir."A strong gust of wind could have knocked the bridgeboy off his feet. His eyelids were drooping like a sad axehound's antenna, and swarms of exhaustionspren puffed around him. Two of his men had positioned themselves strategically so they could catch him should he topple over."Can I order you to go get some sleep?""Not likely, sir."





	Sleepyhead

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy some comically exhausted Kaladin.

"Reporting for duty, sir."

A strong gust of wind could have knocked the bridgeboy off his feet. His eyelids were drooping like a sad axehound's antenna, and swarms of exhaustionspren puffed around him. Two of his men had positioned themselves strategically so they could catch him should he topple over.

"Can I order you to go get some sleep?"

"Not likely, sir. If I slept now, no one would be here to guard you."

Adolin wasn't so sure bridgeboy would be of much use if he had to do anything more demanding than staying vertical, and even on that front he had some serious doubts. 

"I'm sure we can get by without you for a little while."

"Absolutely not. I can't abandon my post. Besides, the second I leave you unguarded, something bad will happen. It's how the universe works."

The bridgeboy locked his legs and shifted his stance into something more visibly stubborn. Obstinacyspren began to appear around his feet, displacing the exhaustionspren. 

Adolin probably would have done something highly immature, like tapping bridgeboy's nose and laughing when that tiny touch knocked him over, had his father not shown up at that very instant.

Dalinar looked distracted. The top button on his uniform had come astray, but he hadn't yet noticed. His words were some strange offspring of a mutter and an announcement. 

"Sadeas has been busy. Already I've had three Highprinces's scribes come and all but come out and ask if it's true. I'll have to say something at the feast tonight before he can make too much use of this..." 

He trailed off as he finally noticed Kaladin. Or, more precisely, the storm of puffing exhaustionspren around him.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

The bridgeboy saluted.

"Yes Sir."

"You don't look alright."

"Looks can be deceiving, Sir."

"I'd think the exhaustionspren were self- explanatory."

"Exhaustionspren, Sir?

Dalinar gestured at the dense cloud of spren. The bridgeboy looked as if he'd rather hoped no one else could see them.

"Those must be someone else's, Sir."

Adolin barely held in the urge to laugh. Was he honestly going to pretend that those weren't  _ his _ exhaustionspren? The other bridgemen seemed equally incredulous. 

His father looked about ready to order the Captain to bed, but Kaladin cut in before he could and changed the subject back to Sadeas. Dalinar's distraction returned, and they began to talk strategy. All talk of exhaustionspren was forgotten. 

...

Adolin wasn't in the habit of tracking his bodyguard's rotation schedules, but he was pretty sure Kaladin's shift ended hours ago. And yet here he was, standing stone-faced several steps behind Shallan like some sort of menacing, sleep-deprived Soulcast statue. 

Shallan was making a good faith effort to ignore the way Kaladin was watching her every move through half-shut eyes, but it really was a mood-killer. And here Adolin had been hoping for a romantic walk. At least he was far enough away that they could whisper to each other. 

“I mean, it’s still better than staying cooped up indoors all day,” Shallan muttered. “Then we’d have been surrounded by your father’s guards all the time.”

One of the things Adolin had discovered about Shallan during their courtship was that, unlike several other girls he’d courted, she wasn’t a fan of staying indoors for long stretches. At first he’d thought it was just a sense of adventure, but more and more he was beginning to think it was something else. Despite the fact that they’d already gone to see most everything of interest or import in the warcamps, her desire to be out and about had yet to abate. In fact, she’d been very earnest in her insistence on walks like these at least every other day.

Adolin was beginning to get the impression that there was a story here.

“Besides,” he muttered back, “it’s almost as if we only have half a guard. Bridgeboy is practically dead on his feet. I don’t know why he doesn’t just go and get some sleep. Did you know this morning he honestly tried to pretend a whole cloud of exhaustionspren were someone else’s?”

She giggled into her covered safehand. 

“Do you think we could ditch him like this?” she asked.

Adolin smiled. “It’s worth a shot.”

_ The second I leave you unguarded, something bad will happen.  _ Ash’s eyes, he didn’t need some bridgeboy to keep him from getting himself killed.

She looked back at Kaladin, then quickly away again before the Captain noticed. The movement made her hair swish and bounce around her face like ocean surf turned red by the setting sun. Airborne for only a second, it cascaded back into place like a foaming wave breaking on a stone beach and briefly losing its potency. It reminded him of the last time he had been to the sea, by the Herdazian border. From his father's maps he knew that there were many islands close to Roshar's mainland out in the Steamwater Ocean, but from the beach it looked like the water stretched out forever, all the way to the sun itself. Other women in the war camps wore their hair in intricate styles, piled high and fashionably controlled, but Shallan's was loose and free and  _ pretty _ . 

It was also very distracting. 

He reluctantly dragged his attention back to the topic at hand. 

“He’s practically sleepwalking. If we make a sharp turn up ahead, we can probably disappear into the fabric shop. We’ll be out of sight before he even realizes anything’s wrong.”

A small part of him felt uncomfortable at the deception. His father had drilled the importance of duty, cultivating mutual respect between yourself and your men, and proper conduct into him, in that order. Dalinar would not be amused to know that Adolin was intentionally making things difficult for his guards, especially when said guards were only doing their jobs. Especially with the incident with the Assassin in White still fresh in his memory. 

But Dalinar had made things difficult for his guards when he was Adolin's age.

When they reached the cross street, they swerved to the right. Before Kaladin could round the bend they ducked into one of the newer fabric shops in the camp. 

The scribe sitting at the desk nodded obediently to them, then glanced uncertainly over their soldiers. Adolin’s stomach sank, but he turned around to look anyway. 

There was the bridgeboy, leaning against the entryway like it was all that was keeping him upright. His eyes were almost shut, but Adolin could still swear they were trained on him. Like a whitespine watching a creature it was preparing to take down. Other than that, he made no indication that anything irregular had happened. 

After a few awkward minutes pretending to look at fabric, they finally left the store. 

“Do you think he’s faking the sleepiness to catch would-be assassins off guard?” Shallan whispered. “He didn’t even miss a beat back there.” 

They both glanced back at Kaladin in time to see him trip over a rockbud vine. He fell like a stone and planted his face in the dirt. Slowly, he freed his boot from the vine and staggered back to his feet. Exhaustionspren puffed around his feet.

Definitely not faking it. 

“Alright,” Adolin murmured. “We’ve just gotta up our game.”

...

Everything was sore after a long day of trying and failing to avoid Kaladin. Adolin didn’t know how that storming man could somehow be simultaneously the most diligent bodyguard he’d ever had and one snore away from asleep on his feet. And he wasn’t the only one; Shallan was rubbing her side and wincing when he dropped her off at Sebarial’s warcamp. She’d be over again for dinner, but she’d insisted on going back. Oh well. Maybe she wanted to get some sketching done. 

The bridgeboy was  _ still  _ on duty. How long had he been at this for, two shifts? Three? 

He’d been thinking he’d go take a bath or something before dinner, but then he caught sight of his father striding into the room with a determined look on his face. He stood, pretending not to feel the aches and pains in his back as he did so.

“I’ve called a meeting this afternoon about the Assassin in White. I’ve had our scholars searching for anything about him that might be relevant, and they will present their preliminary findings to us. I realized that I forgot to tell you earlier, but you… ”

He trailed off when he noticed Kaladin still standing there. He frowned. 

“Weren’t you on duty this morning, Captain?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Why are you still on duty?”

“Well, we’re stretched a little thin until we train the other bridgemen a bit, Sir. And now that I’m sending more soldiers to guard the King, there’s fewer of us to go around for guarding everyone else.”

Dalinar looked troubled by this. “Go get some rest. Elhokar will be at this meeting, and his guards should be sufficient protection.”

Kaladin saluted and jogged away. Adolin had the distinct impression that he was not going to rest. His father seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“He works so hard. I try to understand the schedules he and his men follow, but I can’t figure out when he gets the time to sleep.” He watched Kaladin’s retreating back with a hard, discerning look. Like he was trying to solve a mystery. Then he turned stiffly and walked off toward the meeting.

Adolin followed him in silence. The Assassin in White. Somehow he’d managed to forget about him while he was out with Shallan. Suddenly he felt foolish, all the more so when he remembered the attack. When he remembered how the bridgeboy had been the only competent fighter. His stalemate had felt like a victory. Kaladin had managed what no one else had.

Adolin nearly started at the thought. Kaladin hadn’t just done something no Alethi had managed. If the reports pouring in from across the continent were to be believed, he’d done what no one on  _ Roshar _ had managed. 

His mind darted back to the night of the assassination attempt. There was something not quite right about how things played out that night. Something about the bridgeboy. Whatever it was, it had made him far and away the most effective fighter, even if he still looked like he'd been losing the whole time. He could have sworn he'd seen the shardblade go through the bridgeboy's arm, seen it go dead and grey. But afterwards, he was fine! In fact, there was hardly a scratch to be seen on the man, even after falling out the storming window. Adolin had to have been mistaken. He'd been stuck to the ceiling, after all. Skewed perspective, heat of battle, and all that. 

But how then could he explain the sleeve? 

_ The second I leave you unguarded, something bad will happen.  _

Maybe he shouldn’t be quite so eager to be rid of the bridgeboy. It had never occurred to Adolin to think of how the bridgeboy might be useful to other people. If it hadn’t been for him, the Assassin probably would have slaughtered all of their guards and all of the bystanders to get to his father, the way he had in Jah Keved. 

In which case, the bridgeboy needed to get some sleep.

...

Adolin signaled to his evening guard to stay outside, then ducked into his quarters after Shallan. Normally he wouldn't get away with such behavior, but causal betrothals had certain perks. 

As soon as the door closed and he knew they wouldn't be listened to, he turned to Shallan and collapsed into his chair. 

"We have to do something about that bridgeboy."

She raised a single, elegant eyebrow. The gesture was an argument without words. It not only pointed out the counterarguments to his statement, it highlighted his own lack of oratory skills by reminding him of those counterarguments, or perhaps making him remind himself of them, without even going to the effort of voicing them. That one cocked eyebrow didn't just make him doubt himself, it actually made him argue against himself in his own mind. He had a sneaking suspicion that she didn't even know all of the counterarguments, but it didn't matter because he  _ did _ and now he was thinking of them. She must have learned that from Jasnah. That seemed like something she'd know how to do.

He forged ahead anyway. 

"I know we thought it would be easier to ditch him or get him to be less diligent in monitoring us, but you saw how well that worked. He was just insufferable  _ and _ barely conscious."

He paused, took a deep breath, and moved on to the more serious concern.

"I don't know how much you know about the Assassin in White's attempt on my father's life, but I've been thinking about it. A lot. And what I keep coming back to is how badly it could have gone." He met her eyes. "If he comes back for another try, we're going to need the bridgeboy."

Shallan’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What makes you so sure that you’re going to need him specifically?”

Adolin cleared his throat awkwardly. This was probably gonna sound paranoid to her, but he had to say it.

"I don't know. It's hard to tell with him. He does things sometimes, and I don’t know how to explain them. I can’t seem to get anything solid on him, though.”

He ran a tired hand through his hair and began recounting the odd things he’d seen. He didn’t know if Shallan would believe him or not, but it felt good to tell somebody. 

“Add that to all the rumors flying around in the taverns, you’d think the bridgeboy was a messenger from the Almighty himself sent to help us. I doubt almost any of them are true, but he did fight off the Assassin.” He hung his head. “And he might have to again, for all the good the rest of us did.” 

For all the good  _ Adolin _ did.

Shallan nodded seriously. To his surprise, she seemed to believe him.

"I see," she said, looking at him like she understood his fear of losing someone next time. Then, quick as a diving skyeel, her mouth twisted into a knowing smile. "Do you intend to try and out-stubborn Kaladin, then?" She said it so lightly and teasingly, like he was proposing to duel an opponent he couldn't possibly win against, but she would support his foolishness from the stands anyway. Shallan could turn anything into flirting. He found himself scrambling for a suitable reply. 

"Of course not.  _ We _ intend to out-stubborn him."

Was that the right thing to say? Some of his other failed romances hadn't liked it when he was presumptuous, but others were disappointed when he didn't include them. Renarin just laughed when he despaired over this, but he just didn't get it!

Shallan smiled. 

"Oh? And how do you propose  _ we _ out-stubborn him?"

_ Whew _ . He hadn't messed up.

“Well, I have a plan. It’s kind of a dumb plan, and it will have to wait for tomorrow because I have to talk to Father again tonight and he’s sure to send me to bed afterwards. But I was thinking about his crazy schedule. I mean, he’s either guarding someone or patrolling all day, but what does he do at night? He’s never on duty all night; we have guards to stand outside our rooms, and we have to go to sleep at some point. So what is he doing instead of sleeping?”

Shallan’s grin widened. “So we’re stalking him.”

“Basically.”

...

When Captain Kaladin reported for duty the next morning, Adolin tried to convey as much condescending skepticism and detached concern as possible with a single raised eyebrow, the way Shallan had last night. Kaladin didn't look impressed. 

If anything, he looked even more exhausted than he had the day before. Adolin almost felt bad when he announced that he and Shallan were heading out to the plains so Shallan could do some sketches. The bridgeboy looked like he would fall face-first into the dust if he had to do anything more strenuous than glaring. Then he glared at Adolin, and Adolin stopped feeling sorry for him. 

Now, out on the Plains, he tried to discretely practice raising his eyebrow while Shallan worked. He was pretty sure Kaladin had caught him in the act, but he hadn’t said anything. Perhaps he was simply too tired to come up with a suitably pointed comment.

Shallan sat in front of some sort of rock with plants on it, sketching something. Silvery creationspren wriggled and transformed around her. He hadn't the foggiest what exactly it was that she'd found, but she'd tell all in good time. With some girls, if he missed the point of their scholarly interest, he was simply out of luck. Shallan was happy to explain, however, so these little art trips were much more fun than he'd expected back when he'd first met her. 

Two other bridgemen stood further away, keeping watch for any threat that might approach, while their Captain kept an eye on him and Shallan directly. He clearly didn't think much of their trip, but that was just because he was such an arrogant sourpuss. 

The exhaustionspren still puffed around him, though out of the corner of his eye Adolin had caught him chewing ridgebark to stay awake. 

He didn't know why, but Kaladin had been suspicious of Shallan from the beginning, and while he didn't act like she might assassinate him the second he left the two of them alone anymore, he was still distrustful of her. It was quite annoying. He'd asked her about it once, but Shallan hadn't been very forthcoming. 

Oh well. Better that bridgeboy suspect everyone rather than trust the wrong person, what with the other highprinces doing their best impression of a snake pit and the Assassin running around. 

_ The assassin that the bridgeboy fought off... _

Shallan stood and snapped her sketchbook shut, drawing Adolin's attention back to her. The creationspren dispersed. 

"That takes care of that one. I promise, I'm almost done." She pointedly ignored the way Kaladin loomed over her from behind and strode over to where Adolin was lounging in his Plate. "The Shattered Plains are a relatively new focus in scholarship, so I doubt anyone's done a comprehensive study of much of anything out here. And if someone has and I just haven't heard of it yet, then it's still worth it to get another perspective. Besides, quality drawings always help."

She sounded so excited. Times like this were some of the only times when she didn't seem so  _ in control _ . Like it hadn't even occurred to her that people might be watching her and looking for a weakness to exploit.

She set off towards some other crem-covered rock further along the plateau, promising that this would be the last one. Kaladin trailed after her, apparently trying to stay equidistant from her and from Adolin. He didn't seem to be looking where he was going; in fact, if someone could sleepwalk while awake, that was exactly what the bridgeboy was doing. 

Shallan pulled out a flask full of storm water and carefully poured some onto the rock in front of her. Instantly rockbuds began to open and vines began to unfurl in pursuit of the tiny streams of water trickling over the stones they were growing on. Slowly, the water trickled towards the edge of the plateau, bringing its path to life. Shallan was seated a careful distance from the edge, but she was still close enough to get a look at the plants growing on the chasm walls as well as the ones growing on the top of the plateau. 

Adolin trailed after her, scanning the horizon as he went. The Assassin could return at any time, and this time he wouldn't be caught off balance in some dark corridor. Deep down, he knew it was pointless. What would a warning buy him? The Assassin had supernatural powers, and they hadn't exactly been attacked from behind last time either.  _ They  _ had been the ones to charge _ him _ . But just the same, he continued to wear his Plate and practice throwing his Shardblade everyday.

Kaladin silently maintained his position between the two of them. His face maintained its usual storm cloud cast, but the effect was somewhat dampened by his drooping eyelids. Did that storming man ever stop brooding?

Adolin sat down behind Shallan and to her right, so he could see what she was drawing while maintaining his distance from the edge of the chasm. The edge of the plateau around here was somewhat uneven, and if Adolin had been directly behind her, he'd have gone over the edge. 

Kaladin semi-consciously adjusted his position between them. Adolin still wasn't sure what the bridgeboy thought Shallan would do, but he'd remained suspicious of and just short of openly hostile to her. Clearly he still thought it was a good idea to stay between them whenever possible. 

_ Good luck with that _ , he thought. What with the uneven plateau edge, the only way to stay exactly between them was to walk off the edge. 

Which was exactly what the bridgeboy did.

Adolin nearly fell on his face in his rush to stand as Kaladin walked right off the plateau. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shallan start in surprise, but with her dress wrapped up around her legs like that it would take her at least three seconds to rise, there was no way she could do anything-

It happened as if in slow motion. Kaladin sucked in a breath, deep and startled, and caught his balance.  _ In mid air _ . For a fraction of a second he hung there, eyes fully open and alert for the first time all day. Adolin could have sworn he was glowing, but that couldn't be right. Then he stumbled backwards over four or five inches of empty air back onto solid footing. He sheepishly backed away from the edge. 

Adolin found his voice first. 

"Kelek's breath, bridgeboy! What was that?"

“Nothing.”

“You just walked off a cliff.”

“No I didn’t.” He paused. He must have realized how unbelievable and suspicious he sounded. “I almost did, but I caught myself.”

“I saw you!”

“So did I!” Shallan added as she shakily sat back down. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Well, you must have seen wrong, then.”

Adolin threw up his hands in defeat when he saw the obstinacyspren. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. He knew what he’d seen, but getting the bridgeboy to admit it would be like trying to coax a confession from the stones themselves. He noticed, however that Shallan was not so quick to admit defeat. She continued to study Kaladin while his attention was on Adolin with a small frown on her face. 

Perhaps she could figure him out.

...

That evening they snuck into the Bridge Four barracks. Or rather, they tried to. A large Horneater stopped them almost immediately and asked what they were here for. Had Adolin been by himself, he’d have come up with some absurd lie off the top of his head and probably would have been called on it immediately. Shallan, however, was too suave for such a reaction.

“We’ve come to see Captain Kaladin.” She said it without an ounce of doubt, as though it was not only well within her rights to demand to see him, but to be expected. Come to think of it, Adolin didn’t know if she  _ did _ have the right to request his presence. 

The Horneater didn’t seem perturbed either way. 

“Kaladin is not here, but when he returns I tell him you come.” He turned back to the soup he was nursing.

Shallan plowed on.

“When can we expect him back?”

The man shrugged. “With our Captain, I can’t predict this thing. Sometimes he gone only an hour, sometimes I see him next morning.” The man laughed loudly. “Our Captain, he is always doing things like this. Airsick lowlander.”

“How does he manage to stay awake if he’s out all night?” Shallan asked.

Several snickers erupted from the other side of the fire, where the several other men had slowly congregated as more and more of them noticed the presence of lighteyes. “The man barely sleeps at all, Brightness. If it weren’t for the literal mountain of ridgebark in his quarters, he’d collapse.” 

“What could he be doing that takes all night?”

The gathered men suddenly made themselves scarce. “We’ll tell the Captain when we see him that you asked after him, Brightness. Unfortunately, we’ve got some last duties we’ve gotta do before the day’s out.” Only the cook remained seated, but when Shallan turned to him the man’s eyes grew a bit more guarded. “This question, I no understand.”

Shallan didn’t look like she believed that any more than Adolin did, but the man looked resolute. He turned pointedly back to his stew. Almost like he was dismissing them. What was it with this group and failing to show proper respect? 

…

They trudged back from the barracks empty-handed. Not a single bridgeman had been willing to give them a straight answer. 

As they passed by one of the chasms, however, something odd happened.

The chasm glowed.

Adolin tore off after Shallan to get a closer look, yelling for her to slow down, but by the time they reached the chasm the glow had cut out, leaving them once again in twilight darkness. 

…

“I think we’re going to have to stoop to asking for help.”

Adolin watched Shallan pace the room and tried to hide his yawns so she wouldn’t think he wasn’t interested in what she had to say. He was just so tired from waiting for the bridgeboy last night. Nomon was starting to set by the time he showed up, and then he had the nerve to act like  _ Adolin _ was the unreasonable one! He hadn’t gotten any straight answers from the storming man, either. 

“There’s simply no way to get to Kaladin without going through his men, as we saw last night. They’re not going to tell us what he’s been doing instead of sleeping, that one’s just a lost cause, but I think they might be persuaded to help us get him to go to sleep. Last night they all seemed to notice how little he slept, and they care so much for him I can’t imagine they wouldn’t help us help him. It works out in everybody’s favor. So, what do you think?”

Adolin snapped to attention. “Huh? Oh, yeah, that sounds like a good plan.”

“Good, because I already arranged everything.”

“You what?”

“I cornered one of the bridgemen this morning while Kaladin was away and convinced him to help us get his Captain to shut his eyes for a while. He said he’d get the others on board. Apparently they’ve been worried about him overextending himself for a while now. All we have to do is keep Kaladin away from the barracks until about midday. I spotted him leaving to patrol an hour ago, so he shouldn’t be back until after then anyway.”

“Have I mentioned that you’re storming brilliant?”

…

Shallan’s plan was a success. A man called Teft reported that the Captain was sound asleep, and that he would be in charge of scheduling for Bridge Four. 

Adolin couldn’t help  a little stirring of smugness. For all that the bridgeboy talked about defending Adolin like he was some useless deadweight,  _ Adolin _ was the one who had to look out for Kaladin’s wellbeing. 

He enjoyed about half an hour of this self-congratulation before things Kaladin’s prediction came true.

_ The second I leave you unguarded, something bad will happen. _

…

The sun rose with a feeling of sweet relief the next day. It had been difficult, but almost everyone had survived the nightmarish hours Kaladin had been asleep. Now came the second task; hiding the signs of the turmoil from the Captain. 

Bridge Four were reported that morning in force, begging Adolin to help cover everything up. According to them, if the Captain saw what had happened in his absence, he’d never sleep again. Adolin agreed. There was no need for bridgeboy to find out that something bad had indeed happened as soon as Kaladin took his eyes of Adolin and his family. Besides, he knew it was petty, but he wanted to be the one in the know for once. So many times that bridgeboy had done impossible things, or known things he shouldn’t, or managed things he shouldn’t have been able to do, and Adolin had never once gotten a good explanation. At this point he knew that the man was hiding something from him, and it was frustrating. 

So he hauled himself out of bed, re-wrapped the bandages on his upper arm, changed into clothes without blood on them, and set about helping Shallan hide the bodies of Ialai’s assassins in a storage shed. To his left, Renarin helped put out the remaining fires with a smile on his face. He was favoring his left leg, but looked pleased with himself. After surviving last night without one of his seizures, he had a right to look happy. A one-armed Herdazian was zipping around washing the blood off the walls. A small army of people he called his ‘cousins’ helped him, though Adolin didn’t know how one man could have quite so many cousins. A dark skinned bridgeman was going around giving the servants the official story of what happened, should Kaladin ask. The Horneater from the previous night was just tying up horses anywhere a horse could reasonably be expected to be tied up.

“The Captain, he don’t like horses. Make good distraction.”

There wasn’t much they could do on short notice for the marks in the ground from the chull stampede; they didn’t have enough time to get the marks out of the stone. 

Shallan, thank the Almighty, had devised a ruse to buy the bridgemen more time. She’d prepared a palanquin and several art materials to go out on the Shattered Plains for more natural history sketching. She had just finished loading it when Kaladin stumbled out of the barracks, looking suspicious and alert. 

The bridgeboy wasn’t fooled for even a second, but Adolin started talking before he could ask any questions. 

“Good morning, bridgeboy. I am accompanying Brightness Shallan on an art expedition, and you will be escorting us. We’ve just been waiting for you to get here. Now let’s go, we can’t all waste the day sleeping.”

Kaladin squinted at them.

“Why is Brightness Shallan’s skirt singed?”

“Never mind that.”

_ Take that _ , Adolin thought.  _ That’ll teach you not to be all arrogantly mysterious _ .


End file.
